Mother Nature
by HermitsUnited
Summary: Episode 5 in Virtual Season 5. The problem with relationskips lies in the fact, that people are different. What is a heaven for Donna may be a hell for the Doctor. And soon it can be hell for both of them, even though they came to Eden...
1. The Doctor is Bored

_**Disclaimer:**__ All the rights etc belong to legal owners etc. Of course it is just a fan story, and as such doesn't bring any profits. _

_**Continuity note:**__ This story is preceded by following episodes of "Doctor Who – The Virtual Series Five": _

_1 – "Past Future Continuous"_

_2 – "The Art of Forgetting"_

_3 – "The August Sky"_

_4 - "On a Pale Horse"_

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* * *

**

**DOKTOR WHO**

_VIRTUAL SEASON 5 – EPISODE 5_

**MOTHER NATURE**

* * *

**.1. The Doctor is Bored**

* * *

The Doctor was bored.

There is, of course, a popular notion that intelligent people are never bored, but the Doctor wasn't sure if the same rule applied to Time Lords. The level of his boredom – he'd have to be a complete idiot. Were it possible to translate boredom into energy, the Doctor would be able to power a sizeable town. Maybe even a whole country. Or half the continent.

With his chin resting in the palm of his hand – fingers digging into his cheek – and with a desperately elongated face, he was watching tourists walking up and down the promenade. He spotted three tall women in green gowns; their skin dark and woody. There was a man toting a huge beer belly and three wobbly chins. A married couple accompanied by several noisy kids. Two elderly gentlemen, antique walking sticks in their hands (the Doctor smiled briefly to his memories of early incarnations). A portly matron with radioactive yellow hair. A teenager stomping a pair of large, leather boots studded with metal plates and diamonds. Naah, they couldn't have been diamonds. Zircons surely.

The fact that most of those tourists belonged to species other than various kinds of Homo Sapiens, did not bewilder the Doctor in the slightest. Donna, on the other hand, was sqeaking not only at the sight of strange faces, limbs, outgrowths and hairstyles, but also every time she noticed some extraordinary dress, blause, tunic, jacket, top, skirt or pendant. Although armed with the indisputable fashion sense (at least in the present incarnation) the Doctor couldn't understand Donna's chuckly admiration for the pair of – as he would put it – slacks. So far he hadn't spotted anything which would come up to his own coat (version 1.2 of it).

He would gladly have gone to one of the complimentary trips on offer, but Donna hadn't hesitated to remind him the infamous escapade to the sapphire waterfall on the Midnight, and although he had tried to explain the difference between the Midnight's X-tonic sun and the Eden's red dwarf, somewhere along the way he had lost all the will to go for any trips anymore. What was more important, he had decided not to lose sight of Donna again. Donna was a trouble magnet. The Doctor stubbornly ignored the fact, that he was a twice as powerful trouble magnet himself.

He was watching the promenade and a flame-red sea. Boredom was paralysing his mind and turning his usual enthusiasm into a sad, kiwi collored jelly.

In front of him there was a fanciful goblet full of fresh fruit salad. Rainbow coloured umbrellas, paper fans and bunches of shiny tinsel swayed above the salad in a gentle sea-breeze.

The Doctor craved a steak, chips and peas; a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs, and macaroni cheese consisting mostly of cheese. He could sense his cholesterol level dropping below an acceptable level. Being a Time Lord, he didn't have to worry about saturated, unsaturated and all the other kinds of fats. His metabolism couldn't care less; his taste buds – the other way round.

On his head he had a towel turban with an Eden logo – a holografic, spiralling fig leaf. On his shoulders and back he was plastered with mud derived from hot mineral springs – a stinking goo containing a large concentration of something called a kergrador. He couldn't move not to smear everything around him with the mud (and not to be scowled at by a large and extremely healthy Edenian woman, who had covered him with mud in the first place); he couldn't slip away unnoticed; and he _couldn't stop being bored_!

This was the worst day of his 906 year long life!

"This is – honestly – this is _wizard_!"

The Doctor lowered his hand and turned his desperately elongated face towards Donna.

"Don't you think? _Wizard_!" she repeated enthusiastically. "Donna Noble, citizen of the Earth, from Chiswick, London, in _EDEN_!"

The way she punctuated the last word suggested she found herself in an actual Paradise.

"It's just _barmy_!" she added as if to dispel all doubts.

"Mmm..." the Doctor said. The hand on which he had been resting his face left red marks on his chin and cheek.

"You don't like it." Donna was very sensitive about any symptoms of dissatisfaction.

"No, I like it!" the Doctor protested immediately and unconvincingly. "It is so... peaceful."

With a blissful sigh Donna rolled onto her back and turned her face towards the sun.

"This is gorgeous. I wish I could... I could spend the rest of my life here. Just the sand, sun and sea. Wonderful!"

The Doctor's right eyebrow climbed high up his forehead; every inch of his expressive face reflecting a dread.

"Mmm," he mumbled. "Wonderful."

"What time is it?" Donna shaded her eyes with a forearm, trying to see the clock on one of the hotel's turrets. "We have a Kolerian thermal zen-massage at three, and a pneumatic jacuzzi at four. And we can't be late for the dinner. There'll be a show."

She gave him a quick glance.

"Why aren't you eating your salad?"

The Doctor lowered his head on his folded hands with a sigh.

"There are pears in it," he mumbled. "I hate pears. I can't eat pears."

"They are _not_ pears," Donna stated. "They just _taste_ like pears."

"It's like you were trying to say that the poison is not a poison, it just has the effect of the poison" the Doctor moaned. "Or that a square pumpkin is not a pumpkin."

"I haven't seen a square pumpkin in my life."

"Aah, see, you put them into plastic or glass containers while they are still small and as they grow..." The Doctor brightened up for a moment, but his gloom returned almost immediately. "Doesn't matter."

"If you want to know, _I've noticed_ how sour you are, and I'm telling you..."

Just then a piercing scream catapulted Donna from her deckchair, both hands pressed tightly to her chest. The Doctor was already on his feet, struggling with sleeves of his white dressing gown (adorned with the Eden's logo of course), which he was trying to pull over a thick layer of mud covering his back (and everything around him). He finally managed to do that and he briskly tied the belt. His face, for the first time that day, wore an expression of unadulterated joy.

"At last!" he exclaimed.

And he was gone.

* * *

_**To be continued...**_

**_Author's note: _**_This story waited to be writen for a very long time. __In the meantime I cried my eyes out watching the 10th Doctor's last moments, and I kinda accepted the 11th Doctor (he's not so easy on the eye, but does it matter, really?). And since today is the day I watched "The Eleventh Hour" for the first time it seemed only right to post this short introduction into another of 10th and Donna's virtual adventures in an alternate reality of my spinning-off series. I need to hurry. I saw the spoilers, and Mr Moffat is stealing my ideas :). Does he have cameras planted in my room? _

_Anyway, sorry for a prolonged silence. I hope you will come back to this story, and will be reviewing it just like you did before. It is always greatly appreciated. Oh, and I am sorry, but my English got a bit rusty again... I'm working on it._

_Happy Easter. All the best to all the Doctor's fans. We stand united!:D_

_HermitsUnited._


	2. For a Thrill of the Chase

**.2. For the Thrill of the Chase**

* * *

A screaming girl threw herself into the arms of a young man, very sun-tanned and built like Adonis. The rusty red sea waved slowly in the background. Half of the beach was strewn with exotic flowers. The young couple was surrounded by a circle of people dressed in grass skirts, flower chains and Hawaiian shirts. Somebody was playing ukulele.

The Doctor halted next to a little group of spectators, and rested his hands on his tights, bent in half with exertion, breathing heavily. It was just a couple of days since he has recovered from the X-Factor-modified version of the Plague, so running madly along the beach was the last thing he should be doing. He was wheezing loudly as he wiped his forehead with a sleeve of his white, furry dressing gown (stained with brownish goo of healing mud).

An elderly, grey-haired woman standing nearby gave the Doctor a brief, assessing look.

"Oh, my _gowd_, it's so _romantic_!" she said leaning slightly towards him and grabbing his elbow.

The Doctor's long face elongated a bit more. His eyebrows produced a unique dance – they knitted, shot upwards, knitted again, then one of them stayed still, while the other went high up his forehead again. He made a little step backwards.

"Yeah, I s'pose so, yeah," he mumbled. "Loud, though. A bit… in your face – that Hawaiian theme and all… And screaming…"

"_Aaaw_, I wish somebody proposed to me like that." An inviting smile flittered across the woman's face. "My late husbands had no imagination whatsoever. They'd never come up with something like that. It was so _cute_!"

The Doctor swallowed loudly. "Cute, yeah."

He shot a furtive look at all the people he jostled, shoved aside, knocked down, or just smeared with drying mud as he was rushing to the rescue of the screaming girl. He imagined the sight of Donna's face when she hears that only by the skin of his teeth he stopped himself from interfering with an engagement ceremony.

No, it'll be best to admit nothing, deny everything and trust no-one.

"Are you on holiday here?" the woman asked. The Doctor's eyebrows shot upwards again at the obvious redundancy of this question. He had to struggle not to answer it with patronising "Duh."

"Yeah, yes, I am," he answered as politely, as he could. She was _ancient_, after all. Not even close to the Doctor's age, but ancient nevertheless. The Doctor never seemed to stop and reflect on his own double standards.

"The Red Sea resort?"

"Eeerm, no. The Eden Beach," the Doctor said.

"Me too." She batted her eyelashes at him. "Have you just arrived?"

"Two days ago."

"I knew it!" the woman exclaimed.

"Did you?"

"No suntan…" She gestured vaguely, "…yet."

"Oh, I'm... I'm not really... into sunbathing," the Doctor mumbled.

"I can tell," the woman laughed. "You must turn red with that pale skin of yours. You'll just get more freckles." She moved closer. "So, no sunbathing for you. What are you into then?"

"I... well... I... erm... I really have to go." He sidestepped awkwardly. "Sorry, I have an air Jacuzzi booked, don't want to be late."

"Oh, yes, it's gorgeous, it is," the woman said. "I've been there yesterday. Very relaxing. You can forget the world while you're in the air currents. Well, hurry on, then. You don't want to miss it. I'll be at the Purple Bar later on. There'll be a quiz there, I love pub quizzes, don't you?"

"Pub quizzes, yes, must be on my way now, nice to meet you..." the Doctor mumbled. Pub quizzes were second in the line of his least favourite activities, just after family dinners.

"Lorna Mae," the woman supplied.

"Lorna Mae. Yes. Bye now." The Doctor started running before she had a chance to say anything else. Lorna Mae caught up with him with a shocking ease, her skinny legs in tight shorts and violet trainers pumping quickly as she got in step with the Doctor. He gasped, surprised.

"Hey, wait! What's your name?" Lorna Mae inquired.

"Ah… Doctor," he breathed heavily.

"A _name_, not a profession," she laughed. "Although all the doctors are welcome at my age."

"It is my name." He felt silly running alongside the elderly lady and gasping for air while she seemed perfectly ok. "Just… just Doctor."

"Let me guess," she chuckled. "Your parents were hyperwavers, right? My youngest son's kids, poor little buggers, still weep over the names he had given them."

"H…mmm?" the Doctor gasped.

"Creator and Phalanxa."

"Yes," the Doctor laughed suddenly. "I can see why."

"Would you accompany me at dinner, Doctor?" Lorna Mae batted her eyelashes again. It was amazing that she could run at high speed while maintaining a perfect hairdo and makeup. She was amazing, the Doctor thought. He slowed down and went from a run into a slow jog.

"It'd be lovely, but I'm not alone here," he said cautiously.

"Hell's bells and buckets of blood!" Lorna Mae exclaimed laughing. "How come I've never seen it coming?!"

"Sorry…"

"Aaawww, you're so cute when you're sorry." She punched him on the shoulder. For a second the Doctor wondered how her bristle bones withstood the impact of the blow. "Don't be sad, though. It's still good fun."

"Fun?"

"All the pleasure, all the thrill, is in the chase," Lorna Mae explained. She ran her brown, dry fingers through grey curls of her hair. "Not in the capture."

"Agatha used to say that," the Doctor mentioned. "Agatha Christie."

"And Eric, my late husband," Lorna Mae noted. "The third one. Well, we're almost there. The hotel."

The Doctor looked back at the huge, stone gate of Eden Beach Hotel. The rainbow film of a power field was flickering in its doorway, surrounded by exotic bushes and flowers.

"Yeah," he said. "Well, chase-loving Lorna Mae, I hope I'll see you again."

"Six p.m., 'Absurd Bird'," Lorna answered immediately. "Dress code applies. And… you can bring your wife along."

"She's not my wife," the Doctor reacted without thinking.

Lorna raised her eyebrows. "All the better."

And she smacked the Doctor's bottom as he turned to walk away.

* * *

**_To be continued..._**


	3. Donna's Gone

**.3. Donna's Gone**

* * *

"_What_?"

He scrolled the screen back to the beginning and re-red the message.

"WRU? Been waiting 2hrs4u; the pool ATM; meet me de? Dont b late or ill make u wear a watch, Time Lord. LOL XOXO :)"

"_What_?" the Doctor repeated incredulously. He extended his arm, as if looking at the mobile phone from a distance could help him understand Donna's text any better. The TARDIS gurgled quietly.

"Not funny!" He glared at the ship's rota. "You're supposed to translate everything, every language, so, please, _do_!"

He squinted at the mobile's screen again.

"Is there an ATM at the pool? No, wait, ATM, it means _at the moment_!" He slapped his own forehead. "LOL, really, hugs and kisses! Blimey, I hate texts! Did you know that they've translated Shakespeare into mobile shorthand? 2B'rNot2B?" He used his hands to 'write' the words in the air, gesturing vigorously. "Kills the drama, really. Although, knowing Will, he'd translate it into text himself, if it guaranteed full house at the Globe."

The tip of the Doctor's finger touched an envelope icon on the screen. When a new window opened, he typed quickly: "B there in 30mins, need no watch, have a time machine :)". Annoyingly, he couldn't make the message any shorter and less intelligible.

He inserted the mobile back into its slot in the console. Unlike Donna, he didn't like being in touch at all times and avoided taking the mobile with him, even though his pockets were bigger on the inside, and would easily accommodate a slim smart phone Donna had introduced him to. The Doctor could have been in, but he surely wasn't on call.

He shook his head and walked across the steering room and along several winding corridors to a gigantic bathroom, complete with turquoise tiles, an enormous chandelier, a small diving board, a selected choice of mirrors, countless bottles of shampoos, shower gels and bubble baths, and a yellow rubber duck bobbing on the surface of crystal clear water. He took off the dressing gown and dived into a bathtub the size of a small pool. He surfaced snorting and shaking his head, droplets flying around.

"Cold!" he complained. "What's wrong with you? Want me to catch pneumonia?"

He sniffed suspiciously.

"And what's that? Wait, they're Donna's essential oils, aren't they? Pink grapefruit and shu'alla? It's her setting again! Wh… why won't she set it back to mine? That's just annoying, that is!"

The water gradually turned hot, just as he liked it, but he could smell Donna's perfume on his skin – fresh and fruity, but unmistakeably girly.

"Bloody lovely," he whispered, while rubbing shampoo into his thick hair. White lather covered his head like his third incarnation's silver-blonde locks. He submerged again, to rinse off the foam.

But it _was_ lovely, especially after a stay in the Middle Ages' Bristol, in a gloomy abbey full of people dying of the plague. Ever since being stuck there for almost two weeks, the Doctor developed a deep affection for long, hot baths – and it meant _really_ hot – skin-blisteringly-hot baths only a Time Lord could find pleasurable. It wasn't vanity, though, all that grooming and pampering, and a growing collection of skin and hair product. It was just a sweet part of being alive. He's been walking in the shadow of the valley of the death far too often recently not to enjoy small pleasures of life.

He emerged from the bathroom forty five minutes later, wrapped in towels (most of them adorned with various hotels' logos), his hair carefully messed up, his face freshly shaven, cooling sensation of the aftershave softened by a touch of a moisturising cream. He got dressed quickly – a chocolate brown, pinstriped suit this time, with a pale blue shirt and dark blue converses. He was picking a tie from a wide selection this particular wardrobe had to offer, and was weighting two ties against each other – a swirly fractal navy-blue and a plain graphite one – when the phone rang. The graphite tie landed on the floor, the swirly one in the Doctor's pocket, as he rushed towards the steering room.

He grabbed the silent now mobile and found a message on the screen. Three missed calls. And a voice mail. How very Donna. The Doctor dialled the number.

"You have one new message," the machine's voice announced. Then there was Donna's voice, scared, so very scared.

"_Doctor!_" she shouted. "_Doc…!_"

"To replay the message, press hash. To delete…"

The Doctor looked at the mobile as if the phone had a life of its own and just demonstrated it by biting off his ear. He quickly returned Donna's call, but the phone just rang, and rang and then switched to a voicemail.

"I'm coming," the Doctor said after the tone. "I'm coming, Donna!"

And he was running again, the unbuttoned suit jacket flying. Out of the TARDIS and into the hotel room, out of the room and into the long corridor, a brief pause at the lifts, then a nervous jog inside the small, swift cabin, into the crowded hallway, out of the hotel, down the steps, along the winding path (cutting corners), into the activities area, to the poolside…

Donna wasn't there. Rows of deckchairs stood empty under colourful umbrellas in the glimmer of bluish light reflected from under the pool's surface. The Doctor skidded to a halt, breathing heavily. He pressed his fists to his sides and looked around frantically. She wasn't there. She had sounded so scared. So very, very scared.

"_Donna!_" he bellowed. "_DONNA!_"

His fingers destroyed the stylish mess on his head, turning it into a mess of desperation. The Doctor's eyes grew wild.

"Where _are_ you?" he whispered. "Why do you have to _do_ that? Every time. I swear, _every – single – time_!"

He was even more annoyed, because he felt predominantly guilty. Ok, so he was late. Fifteen minutes maybe, well, more like thirty, but so what? What was half an hour when compared to the overwhelming vastness of time? But the truth was, he'd been late again, and now Donna was gone.

Some people walked past, giving the Doctor surprised looks. They were all dressed up – bright colours and sparkling jewellery – heading towards the Night Time Amusement Area. The ladies' heels tapped loudly against tilled path. There was discrete music coming over a PA system and a smell of tropical flowers in the air. Water in the pool whispered softly.

The Doctor looked around again, this time less frantically. It wasn't a war zone; he was in the most boring place in the universe – _ever_ – he reminded himself. It was a holiday resort, created for one purpose only – to satisfy all the tourists' needs. The environment was completely artificial and held no danger whatsoever; thousands of health and safety professionals worked day and night to make it as safe as a baby's crib. You couldn't slip or trip here, not to mention sinking in the pool. You couldn't get driven over, you couldn't fall out of the window, you couldn't get a food poisoning or even a bunion. He checked and double checked (and even triple checked) the destination before he as much as touched the TARDIS' controls to get them here. It was Eden, the safest holiday destination in the known universe.

Donna probably just saw a spider. Or rather, she thought she's seen a spider, 'cause, there were no spiders here. Or maybe she fell asleep on a deck chair and had a bad dream.

But why wouldn't she pick up the phone, then?

Or maybe she was angry at him and that was her idea of a payback.

But she sounded so very scared. Not many things could scare his Noble Donna so much she would shout like that. Not his Donna.

He shook his head and rushed towards the pool's exit. The arched passage wrapped in flowering creepers led to an open air stage, now empty. From there a wide path wound up the hill towards brightly lit pavilions – a hive of pubs, clubs, restaurants, bars, cafeterias, ballrooms, cinemas, bowling alleys, theatres, cabarets and game arcades. Back behind the pool and beach activities area, the Red Sea of Eden glowed, well – red, in a mild darkness of tropical night.

_Six million tourists at any given time_, the Doctor thought as he ran. _Six million. One Donna_.

He was passing more people now, as he was approaching the night entertainment area (one of many such areas, he thought bitterly). Although it seemed rather useless, the Doctor was straining his eyes trying to find Donna's red head among other heads in gathering crowd.

The glimmering power-field recognised his wristband and opened up to let him into the Pavilions. He ran through a glass cathedral; soaring arches seemingly made of pure light, supporting upper floors of the building. His converses squeaked on marble floor as he slalomed in between low rattan tables and settees, and marched up to the carved ebony reception desk. The tall, pale man behind the desk smiled down at him. He had incredibly long teeth.

"How can I help?" he asked, lisping slightly.

"Yeah, erm…" the Doctor had to stop to catch his breath. "Yes, I'm looking for my friend. She… She called me… Sounded… well, distressed… And now I can't find her, so if there's any way…"

"Of course, thir," the man lisped politely. "Her writhband will register in our databank, so we can find her everywhere acroth the whole island."

"Yes? Brilliant! Whooo! A relief." The Doctor wiped his forehead with a back of a trembling hand.

"Are you a legal partner of… your friend, though?" the receptionist asked.

"A legal… what? What do you mean, a legal partner?"

"Do you have a legally binding contract confirming your partnership; like marriage, or concubination, or ownership, or friendership et cetera?" The receptionist's scary smile faded a little.

"She… She is my friend," the Doctor stammered. "We travel together. We are staying in the same apartment. Number… erm… 7765. Onyx Towers. Eden Beach Hotel."

The man behind the desk looked at the holoscreen hidden below the desktop's level.

"Doctor Noble?" he asked.

"John Smith," the Doctor corrected, "Doctor John Smith. And Donna Noble. That's my friend – Donna."

"Yes, well," the receptionist shrugged his shoulders slightly. "I'm afraid I can't help you. You didn't present any legally binding document of your engagement. Not even a temporary one. Legally, you are two consenting thingles, and a perthonal space protection act preventh me from dithclosing any information about your… friend'th whereabouth…"

"But… why?"

"She might not want you to know," the receptionist said in a tone one could assume addressing a child. The Doctor sighed.

"Look, I just want to know if she's safe."

"Her writhband registers an uncorrupted thignature," the man answered smoothly.

"But it only means that her wristband is undamaged," the Doctor growled. "What about her?"

He pushed his hand into the pocket and was fiddling with his sonic already, through the jacket's fabric and through the wooden panels of the desk trying to access the island's computer system.

"The writhtband records your friend's vitals," the receptionist said. "I can assure you she is fine… Hmm…" He looked down again and wrinkled his brow. "You, however… Thir, can I suggest you should theek medical attention. Immediately. Your heart…"

The Doctor flipped a switch on his sonic screwdriver, and stepped back from the desk.

"Oh, no, my heart, eerm, it does that," he said quickly.

"But, thir…"

"No, it is fine, I'm fine, it's normal, it's normal for me." The Doctor withdrew quickly. He didn't want the receptionist to raise the alarm. On Eden it would almost certainly end with an obligatory stay in med-bay. Eden couldn't afford sudden heart attacks among tourists. "Thanks for your help. I'll be on my way. Ta!"

He turned on his heel and jumped in the middle of a loud group heading towards a nearest club. He had to hunch his shoulders and bend down a little to disappear from the receptionist's view – the bloody desk was high enough to resemble a thip, sorry, a ship over stormy waves. He checked his sonic's readings as he walked hidden in a crowd – according to them Donna was alive, all right, but he couldn't pinpoint her location. He shook the sonic, trying all the settings he could think of. People were pushing him as they flew across the high, golden door, resembling an ancient garden gate. It was impossible to stay in place against the river of tourists. The Doctor growled irritably and together with them he stepped into purple shade.

* * *

_**To be continued...**_


	4. The Reality Watch

_Author's note: It is because I like him when he is speechles. Like Donna, I love them when they are 'gorgeous, and can't say a word.' But the Doctor will always have a last word, won't he?=D_

* * *

**.4. The Reality Watch**

* * *

"There you are, handsome!"

Somebody grabbed his sleeve. The Doctor started and turned quickly. Lorna Mae's hand sneaked in between his arm and body and nestled in a crook of his elbow. The woman was wearing a scarlet silky dress and golden shoes with stiletto heels. Her hair, now straightened, fell over her shoulders in a white, glossy cascade. Her lipstick was as red as a warning light in a cockpit of a starship about to collide with an exploding star.

"I thought you were supposed to bring your friend along." She smacked the Doctor jokingly with the other hand. A little golden clutch bag, she was holding, connected painfully with the Doctor's ribs.

"Ow, yeah, friend," he gasped. "Right, just, just, yeah, right."

"So, where is she?" Lorna Mae looked around.

"Lorna Mae, hi, yes," the Doctor was too surprised to feel annoyed. "How… how… how did you find me?"

"You've found _me_, cutie," the woman laughed.

"Have I?" The Doctor's eyebrows jumped up. He looked around the club's interior and a spark of understanding flashed in his haunted eyes. The club resembled a huge, gilded bird's cage, and the crowd gathered inside, sitting on long, golden benches, looked like colourful birds in their dresses, suits and hats. Even the drinks in their hands were bright like parrots' feathers. "It is the 'Absurd Bird', isn't it?"

"And you were supposed to wear smart clothes," Lorna said. She grabbed a tie poking out of the Doctor's pocket and swung it over his neck. The Doctor's chin went up as he tried to escape her fingers, tying a smart half-Windsor knot at his throat. His Adam's apple jumped up and down as he swallowed quickly, backing away, but with his head held in spot by a leash of a tie.

"Wait, Lorna, Lorna, just a moment, I… I have no time… I… I am busy…"

"There!" The woman tightened the knot and straightened the shirt's collar. "One of these things you never forget. It's like riding the bicycle. Or like ring-tone recording."

She removed some invisible lint from the Doctor's lapel. "Well, now, aren't you a dish?" She reached up to tidy the Doctor's hair, but he shook his head wildly.

"Right, yeah, sorry, I really have to go. See, Donna, my friend, Donna, she's missing, and… well… I have to find her. Now. I have to find her _now_."

"Why is it so urgent?" Lorna Mae stepped back and looked at him questioningly. "Why are you so flustered? What's wrong?"

The Doctor danced in a spot, ready to run, but not knowing where to run to. "Oooh… She called me. She left me a message. She sounded scared. I think she may be in danger."

Lorna Mae didn't laugh.

"Can I hear it?" she said seriously. "The message? Did you save it? I have a good ear for details, you know, ring-tones and all. "

"Yeah, I…" he dug the phone out of his pocket. "That's it, there!"

He squinted down to locate the message, and when he looked up again Lorna Mae was pulling a stethoscope out of her tiny clutch bag. She stuck it in her ears and pressed the chest-piece to the mobile in the Doctor's hand. The Doctor's eyes widened even more.

"_What_?"

"Hush! Be quiet! There's something in the background." Lorna listened to the message with her eyes closed. "Yes!" she said a second later. "Definitely a bell. That'd be… the Well's Square Bell. It, kinda, breaks at the second bong. It's in sector three, not far from your hotel."

She folded the stethoscope and pushed it back into her bag. The Doctor was glaring at her as if she were a Cyberman-Dalek crossbreed offering him a cookie. He realised that his mouth was open, so he closed it with a snap of his teeth. He looked at Lorna again, as if seeing her for the first time ever – an old lady in a loud, scarlet dress, with a tiny bag hiding uncountable secrets – and stammered: "Who _are_ you?"

She smiled at him. "Lorna Mae Byrd, Rationality Watch."

His eyebrows collided over his popping eyes. "_What_?"

"Lorna Ma…" she trailed off and grabbed his hand. "Oh, come on, we can still catch up with them."

"With whom?"

The woman bent down and pulled at something concealed in a rim of her dress. Instantly the silky fabric swirled around her legs, transforming a pretty cocktail dress into a trouser suit. Lorna straightened up and pulled the Doctor by the elbow.

"Come on, I'll explain later!"

"But… Where…?"

"The Well's Square, you dummy!" Lorna Mae started running, stopped and stomped her foot, digging the stiletto heel into the carpeted floor. "Fold, damned thing!"

The heel collapsed like a telescope, and Lorna repeated the same action with the other heel, transforming evening shoes into comfortable pumps.

"Come on, then!"

Totally confused, the Doctor followed her. They slalomed their way through the crowd, glided across the huge hall, and sprinted towards the exit. Once outside the massive door and the gleaming curtain of the force field, Lorna caught the Doctor's hand again. She did something to her watch and a split second later they were running out of the transmat beam in the middle of a romantic plaza, surrounded by cafeterias and restaurants. The Doctor stumbled and grabbed the side of a huge, stone well for support.

"Whoa!"

"Sorry!" Lorna Mae shouted over her shoulder. "It is rough but saves time!"

"Is it a…?"

"Well's Square, yeah," Lorna produced a pair of spectacles out of her all-embracing bag, and slipped them on the bridge of her nose. They were nice half-moon specs in golden frames. Behind their lenses Lorna's eyes seemed huge. They were quite lovely too, bright, and blue and full of life. "We're too late, though. Look for any clues. And hurry up, we don't have forever."

The Doctor gasped and went down to the cobble stones surrounding the well, tearing the vine of the well's ornaments as he slid his back along its wall.

"Teleport," he wheezed. "And a really bad one!"

"Yes, sorry, kitten," she smiled at him brilliantly. "Some people can't take it. Should have warned you. Is this a sonic device?"

The Doctor looked at the item in his own hand and sternly decided that he would not be any more surprised.

"A screwdriver," he said as calmly as he could.

"How old-fashioned," Lorna said. "Sweet. Well, use it, pumpkin. Don't look at me. I can't do everything for you."

With a singing screwdriver in his hand the Doctor turned to face her again.

"Are you my _wife_?" he asked, his voice strangled.

Lorna Mae giggled. "Not yet."

"D'you mean not yet in time, or not yet for me, or not yet for you, or not yet in a normal, consecutive, temporal way?" he moaned.

"You are sweet, babes, but, no, I'm not your wife," Lorna Mae assured. "We've just met earlier today. And your brain has to be seriously scrambled if you have to ask. Don't worry, though. Makes you even sweeter."

The Doctor growled something and turned the screwdriver towards the ground. He changed some settings, and the sonic's trill become more urgent. A ball of blue light came to life at its tip. A few people around the plaza looked in the Doctor's direction, but then walked away, not really interested in a man crawling on the cobble stones on all fours, under the impatient gaze of an elderly woman in red trouser suit.

"Ha!" the Doctor exclaimed suddenly, and landed on his belly, his chin on the ground, and sonic pressed to the crack between two cobbles. "There you are!"

He picked up a single long, red hair.

Lorna Mae crouched next to him. "Your friend's?"

"Yup. Think so."

Out of her bottomless bag she produced a phial and tweezers.

"Give it here."

"It's just a hair," the Doctor protested.

"Might have traces of a contact," Lorna said. "If it's been pulled, might give us a sample of the attacker's DNA."

"It'll never be enough to…"

"You'd be surprised, sunny boy." She jumped up, pulling him by the hand with amazing strength, and reached to her wrist to activate teleport imbedded in her watch. The Doctor stopped her hand.

"Wait… wait a tick!" he shouted. "Lorna Mae, I can't think with you around! Have you ever been told how overwhelming you are?"

"All the time," she laughed. "People moaning, all my life. Except maybe for my second husband, Phil; he was incredibly patient. The best you can do is go with a flow, dumpling. I promise you, everything is going to be all right. Just trust me. I'm a genius."

The Doctor's shoulders sagged.

"I am being punished," he whispered. "That must be it. I'm being punished."

"Are you now, dear?"

He snatched the phial out of her hand.

"Yes, I am. And, please, answer me that. Who would attack Donna? Such things just don't happen in Eden. I know that. That's why I've chosen this place. Because _it is safe_."

Lorna sniggered quietly. "Yeah, right. There are some facts about Eden you should know, dear. First of all – it is _not_ a safe place. Well, the environment has been made as safe as possible, but there is always a human factor, so to say, or an intelligent life factor, considering that not everyone here is human. People tend to disagree on how the paradise should look like. Wasn't that the original reason of banishment from the Garden?"

She looked the Doctor in the eye, tilting her head.

"There are countless factions trying to dominate Eden, Doctor," she said. "Most of them are just deluded, or mad, but some have dangerous ideas. We pay a price for being a paradise, Doctor. That bliss doesn't come cheap."

"Who's we?" the Doctor asked. "The Rationality Watch?"

"The Board, sweetie. The Rationality Watch is just the Board's executive body."

"Like an army?" the Doctor growled.

"More like a militia. You need to understand Eden better before you can understand the tides of power here." Lorna shrugged and ran her fingers through her silky hair. "The Board consists of a number of extremely rich beings, who came up with the idea of an ultimate holiday resort and actualised their idea by a careful appliance of an unimaginable amount of money. Now the Board expects the expenses will pay off. Obviously the Board will do everything to protect their project. There's one obvious problem here, though. As soon as protective measures become visible, the paradise turns into a prison. You cannot claim that the resort is safe if there is an army guarding its gates. The guns by no means make anyone feel safer."

"Right," the Doctor agreed. "So all members of your militia look like you?"

"No one looks like me, dear, I assure you," Lorna Mae laughed. "But yeah, they are invisible. You couldn't tell them among the tourists. Yet they keep their eyes peeled."

"Brilliant," the Doctor gasped. "An army of secret agents. Very Bond."

"Come on, boy. Let's go to my office." Lorna offered her arm and reached to her watch again. Reluctantly, the Doctor took her hand. Next second he was swaying in the middle of an enormous hall at the bottom of two flings of stairs. Through equally enormous windows he could see an overwhelming panorama of the island – now resembling dark velvet sprinkled with diamonds of lights. Far in the distance the red ocean glimmered with weird luminescence – underwater mountain ridges, jungles of ruby reefs and swift reflexes of aquatic creatures swimming in large shoals.

"_That's_ your office?" the Doctor said slowly.

"Yup!" Lorna said, as she snapped her fingers switching on the lights and turning the beautiful view into a dark, misty mirror of the hall. "Well, no, it's my home, but I like to think of it as my office. I don't fancy the other one. There's a _desk_ there. Boring, really."

"Your home," the Doctor repeated. "You have a _home_ on _Eden_. Lorna Mae, you are not an ordinary police-woman, are you? I can think of anyone who could afford having a home here. Unless you…"

"Yeah, all right, that's about enough questions from you, kitten," Lorna snapped, throwing her little clutch-bag across the hall in a general direction of a low settee by the patio door. "My turn now."

She rested her hands on her hips and tilted her head; silver hair flying.

"You are a Time Agent, aren't you?" she said.

The Doctor's eyes narrowed slightly; they seemed to be slanting now - almost catlike. A tiniest twitch of a smile lifted one corner of his mouth.

"No, I'm not," he said calmly.

Lorna Mae laughed.

"I have scanned you, pet. There's a lot of temporal residue in your energy field. You've travelled through time."

"Time and space, both. Still, I am not a Time Agent," the Doctor repeated.

"Liar," Lorna Mae snorted.

The Doctor never missed a bit.

"_Time Lord_," he countered.

For the first time it was Lorna who seemed to be thrown off course. She made a little step back, and one of her hands slipped down from her narrow hip.

"No," she gasped.

"Oh, yeah." The Doctor finally regained his footing. With a sly smile he burrowed his hands in his trousers' pockets.

"This is the worst, barefaced, craziest…" the woman began.

"I am, though," the Doctor interrupted. "A Time Lord. Well, _the_ Time Lord. The only one left in existence." He lifted his chin, drawling his words. "Never heard of me? Really? You should look me up, then. Doctor, the."

He walked across the hall and stood close to the patio door, cupping his hands to gaze outside again.

"And _you_ are a Time Agent," he concluded. "Should have known. You are the weirdest lot, you are."

"Time Lords are legendary," Lorna gasped.

"Yes, we are." The Doctor pressed his nose to the glass, looking out at the sparkling nocturnal panorama.

"As in _not real_!" Lorna Mae shouted.

"Pick up that stethoscope of yours and listen to my _hearts_, sugarplum," the Doctor sneered, still surveying the lights of Eden. "You said you'd _scanned_ me. Do I register as human?"

"You _can't be_!" the woman shouted again.

The Doctor finally turned to face her, collected now and very, very serious.

"Lorna Mae Byrd, I am getting angry. My friend is in trouble, and I have to find her. So, you will explain yourself, now. _Please_."

"I have a gun," the woman announced, slowly backing away.

"I haven't," the Doctor growled. "But it seems to be an important element of the Time Agent's attire. What is it - a squareness gun? No, wait, never mind that," he paused for a second. "So you are a Time Agent, and a multi-billionaire, and an owner of Eden. For some reason you are afraid of other Time Agents, and for some reason you concluded I was one. Sloppy, but I don't care. Who I care about is Donna. What have you done with her, Lorna Mae? And, please, no more lies."

The elderly woman sighed deeply.

"A Time Lord?" she whispered. "Really?"

"Donna Noble," the Doctor said. "Where is she?"

"Oh," Lorna pressed her hand to her mouth. "Oh, she's safe, she's perfectly safe."

"She didn't sound safe!" the Doctor yelled.

Lorna lowered her hand. Her lipstick must have been quality stuff as it didn't smear at all. She bit her lip.

"She never phoned you. The message… it was a fake. You know, ring-tones, and all. I faked it." She shrugged her shoulders. "I just wanted her out of a way to investigate you. Oh, Doctor, I am terribly sorry for the mix-up. I really thought you were one of them. The way you just appeared on the island – without any electronic trail – no booking, no reference number, no usual data… It just seemed so typical. And the readings… All the temporal disturbances. I assumed… I just assumed…" she stammered again, then straightened up and gave the Doctor the brightest of smiles; her blue eyes confident and sparkling again. "I apologise, Doctor, I am really sorry for the inconvenience. Still, believe me, even as we speak, Donna Noble is having a time of her lifetime."

The Doctor just glared.

* * *

_**To be continued...**_


End file.
